


gift wrapped

by nicolevixen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Secret Santa, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a lot of name-dropped characters, actually, also implied osasuna and ushiten if you squint, because thats apparently all i can write, he doesnt get paid enough for the sakuatsu bullshit™, honestly someone give komori an award, obligatory implied bokuaka, oh my god im serious so much pining they just dont know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28366875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolevixen/pseuds/nicolevixen
Summary: “How—?” Sakusa wills himself to stay calm.Deep breaths Kiyoomi, deep breaths.He starts over, “How thefuckdo you rig a Secret Santa?”Sakusa can practically hear Komori shrugging on the other line, “Hey, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, Kiyoomi-kun. Buy him dinner or something.”[or where sakusa draws atsumu’s name in the secret santa and tries not to stress himself out picking a gift. he ends up falling a little in love instead.]
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 576





	gift wrapped

**Author's Note:**

> I took out a 400k word fic in one whole sitting and I think my soul has ascended to some other realm
> 
> so naturally I banged out this mess onto a doc right after since *gestures vaguely* christmas 
> 
> happy late holidays everyone <3

Every year, without fail, there was always some sort of festive activity that went on in the local V-League teams during the holiday season. 

And every year, once again without fail, Sakusa was always dragged into the festivities against his will. He isn’t sure why he’s even surprised anymore, really. 

(Last year, a game of pass the parcel was held, the parcel itself being so large that Sakusa was almost certain it could be considered a safety hazard. He received a gift card for some frozen yogurt shop he’d never heard about in his life; he later trades this card with Atsumu for his lavender hand soaps.)

So apparently, this explained why one Motoya Komori was in the MSBY Black Jackals changerooms, with one top hat on his head and another top hat in his hands. 

Komori sat on _their_ bench like he belonged there — which, _he didn’t._ He’s _not even on this team,_ how did he get in?

Sakusa stares at him, just for a second, before muttering a defeated, “Why.” 

Komori grins at him, all sunshine and rainbows that had always made Sakusa question their relation, “Good afternoon to you too, Kiyoomi-kun!” 

  
  
“I’m not quite sure you could call it that, since you're here now as well.” 

Komori easily breezes past this. He nods good-naturedly at the rest of the team, who are all blinking in confusion, “Hope practice went well for you guys today!”

“Great, fine, whatever,” Sakusa cuts in, “Why the fuck are you here?” 

(The older members of the team, who _probably_ — Sakusa was never sure — didn’t know their cousin-relation, gapes at him. Meian mutters something under his breath about good sportsmanship.)

Komori keeps on smiling. He doesn’t look bothered, which Sakusa can’t be sure is a good thing or not, “That’s no way to talk to your favourite cousin, Kiyoomi-kun.”

“You're my only cousin.” 

“Anyways.” Komori shakes the top hand in his hands. It makes a rattling sound, like a bunch of paper edges hitting together, “I’m here to organize a Secret Santa between the local teams, and lucky for you guys, you’re one of the first to pick.”

Sakusa instantly feels a rise of dread and turns to change as quickly as he humanly could. 

Hinata, on the other hand, jumps literally a foot in the air with his usual animated onomatopoeias, “I’ve never been part of Secret Santa before! Thank you for including us, Komori-san!” 

(Sakusa thinks his eyes might actually be sparkling. He hurries to change even quicker.)

Komori laughs and finally stands. All he has to do is leave now and Sakusa would be free. He glances at the door. But the world was never _that_ kind to him, and so he didn’t leave. 

“It’s no problem, Hinata-kun.” Komori shakes the top hat at the said boy, “Since you're so enthusiastic about it, you can choose first if you’d like.” 

“Can I?” And, oh, look at that, Hinata’s eyes _are_ actually sparkling now, “Here I go!” He plunges his hand into the top hat and grabs a slip of paper out. 

“Ohhhh!” Hinata exclaims once he had opened the slip, “I got Goshiki-kun!” 

There’s a chorus of amused groans around the room. Even Bokuto looks like he wants to laugh, though Sakusa is sure he had probably done the same thing _at least_ once. He makes a mental note to ask Washio-san about it later. 

“Ah, you’re not supposed to tell anyone…” Komori trails off, then shrugs, “Oh, what the heck, I don’t care, just don’t tell anyone else, okay?” 

Hinata slips the paper in his pocket, “Of course! Sorry!”

While the rest of the team pull names out of the hat, Sakusa finishes changing and tries to sneak out of the room. The door is so, so close yet freedom is so, so _far—_

“Hey!” Komori calls, pointing straight Sakusa ways. He freezes in place mere inches from the doorway. _Goddammit._ “Where’d you think you're going, Kiyoomi-kun?” 

“Out…?” Sakusa, smooth fucking operator, Kiyoomi says. 

“Not without picking a name you're not.” Komori shakes the hat at him, a tad more aggressively than he had to the rest. 

Sakusa glares at the top hat. _Look what you’ve done,_ he mentally scolds the very inanimate hat, _are you proud of yourself?_

  
  
“The hat itself is clean, I washed it last night. _And,_ if you don’t want to pick, I will for you, so don’t think you're getting out of this.” Komori grins. He shakes the hat at him again and Sakusa gets the etching feeling that it’s like he’s being offered a drink. 

_Drats,_ Sakusa thinks, _he’s patched every possible loophole I could use. Think, Kiyoomi, think!!_

“C’mon, Omi-kun,” a different voice buts in, and Sakusa’s desire to leave doubles considerably. “You just have to buy someone a gift, no big deal.”

Sakusa glares at Atsumu, who’s leaning against the lockers in an oversized sweater and looking _too_ much like a model in his opinion. He glares even harder. 

“Yes big deal, so no thank you.” 

“If it’s really that big of an issue, I could deliver the gift for ya?” Atsumu offers. Sakusa squints at him; Atsumu is being much too considerate and _nice,_ and Sakusa doesn’t like it. At all. He definitely doesn’t like it. 

“Please, Kiyoomi-kun?” Komori shakes the hat at him _again, what the fuck,_ “If someone’s already drawn your name, I don’t want to go and track it down again to remove it. I won’t ask anything of you ever again.” 

  
  
Which, one, is nothing short of a big fucking lie, but Sakusa digress. 

  
  


“Fine, whatever,” Sakusa grumbles eventually, ignoring the cheers from his teammates. He’s been in this changeroom twenty minutes longer than he ever wants to be, and he just wants to leave, _goddamn._

Komori sticks his hand in the hat, but Sakusa swats it away, “Stop, I’ll pick it myself. You probably rigged it or something.” 

“How would I rig a Secret Santa?” Komori wonders out loud but obeys anyway, holding the hat for Sakusa alone. 

Wrapping his hand around the sleeve of his jacket, he reaches into the hat, quickly pulls out a slip of paper and sticks it into his bag without looking. 

“Uh,” Atsumu says. 

“I want to leave.” Sakusa sniffs, putting his hands in his pockets, “I don’t care for this, I’ll check it when I get home.” 

Komori doesn’t look bothered, but rather oddly pleased. It does not settle well in Sakusa’s stomach, that expression. “Of course, Kiyoomi-kun. See you later.” 

Sakusa nods at him and then promptly leaves, missing Komori’s smirk. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“What the fuck,” Sakusa says into the phone when he’s sitting at his kitchen table, freshly showered and with the tiny _(cursed)_ slip of paper in front of him.

“Good evening to you too,” Komori replies from the other line. There’s the sound of a sink running in the background, “How can I help you, my favourite cousin?” 

Sakusa ignores the whole favourite-cousin-only-cousin thing in the favour of his steadily growing panic. “You know,” he accuses. 

Komori hums, “What do I know?” He lilts, his voice _kinda_ sounding like the picture of innocence. 

And Sakusa _kinda_ wants to spike a volleyball into his face. Actually, no; he _will_ spike a volleyball into his face the very next chance he gets. 

Because on the paper in front of him reads the name and information in festive colours and perfect strokes: 

> _✩✩✩ ~ Miya Atsumu | MSBY Black Jackals ~ ✩✩✩_

  
  


“Are you _seriously_ accusing me of rigging the Secret Santa so you’d pick Atsumu’s name out of the hat?” 

“Are you denying it then?”

A pause of total silence on both ends. 

“No.”

“Fuck you,” Sakusa hisses into the receiver, putting in as much of a threat of a possibly concussing volleyball flying his way in the future.

“I’m sorry.” Another pause. “No, I lied again. I’m not.” 

“How—?” Sakusa wills himself to stay calm. _Deep breaths Kiyoomi, deep breaths._ He starts over, “How the _fuck_ do you rig a Secret Santa?” 

Sakusa can practically _hear_ Komori shrugging on the other line, “Hey, I don’t know what you’re so upset about, Kiyoomi-kun. Buy him dinner or something.” 

Sakusa instantly hangs up. It’s more like he punches the end call button as hard as possible without breaking his phone, but same difference. 

Less than a minute later, his phone rings again. Sakusa begrudgingly picks up, but only because the silence in his apartment is too suffocating for his taste, _and_ because he has no clue what to do next. 

“Okay, I’m sorry—“ Komori starts immediately.

“You _literally_ just said you were not.” Sakusa pulls up his laptop and types into google: _christmas gifts for men._ He gets a website selling nothing but socks. He then googles: _christmas gifts for boys_ and gets a toy train on the front page. He squints at his monitor. 

“I’m sorry that I don’t feel sorry, because apparently you think I should be sorry when I’m not. Not sorry, I mean.” 

“You’re giving me a headache, what the fuck did you just even say.” 

Sakusa then searches up _christmas gifts for annoying assholes;_ which, bad word choice. He deletes his search history for that one. 

“I just wanted to give you an easier opportunity to confess to Atsumu. I didn’t think you would get this upset. Not that I regret it though.” 

“Uh-huh,” Sakusa says before the words fully registered. “Wait, what the fuck.” 

“What? What’s ‘the fuck’?” Komori’s voice is curious, like he hadn't just said what he just did say (and god, Sakusa was giving himself a headache at this point). 

“Did you say _I_ wanted to confess to _Miya?”_

Radio silence. Again. “Uh. I’m lost.” 

“Why would I want to confess anything to Miya, except my hatred towards his stupid face?” Sakusa growled, “What in the world made you think I have something to confess?” 

“Wait. Wait, you’re joking.” Komori’s voice is borderline incredulous. It makes Sakusa want to murder something and then jump out his window. “You have to be kidding me.” 

“Why the fuck would I joke about something as vile as this?” Sakusa hits a key too hard and accidentally deletes all his tabs. “Where did you even get such an idea in your deranged mind?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” There’s a shuffle from the other end, most likely from Komori moving locations, “I gotta write this down.” 

“Write _what_ down?” 

He doesn't get his question answered. “So you’re telling me you don’t like Atsumu. Like, at all.” 

“Of course I don’t.” Sakusa opens up a new tab again and googles ‘ _how to give a gift to someone’._ He gets a wikihow article labelled _how to give a great gift to someone._ He clicks on it. 

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, huh.” 

“What does that even _mean?”_

There’s a shuffle where Sakusa can only assume Komori had thrown his hands in the air from sheer frustration, “You have a crush on Atsumu! I know that! Everyone knows that! Why else would you think I rigged the Secret Santa for you?” 

“I—“ Sakusa kills the tab again by accident (on step 4: sneak a look at the person’s online wish lists). “I _do not_ have a crush on Miya, what the actual _fuck Motoya.”_

“Oh my god. You’re so far down denial we’re not even in Egypt anymore.” 

“Fuck you,” Sakusa spits and hangs up. He tosses his phone onto the couch. He could do this himself, screw other people. 

He opens up another wikihow page.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Step one on the wikihow article was to make a list of the person’s interests and preferences. And after a solid hour of brainstorming, Sakusa is half proud-half horrified to see that the only thing on the list was: _volleyball._

So that settles it. Sakusa _doesn't_ care about Atsumu at all _(shut up the Komori in his head),_ so he’d just get him a new volleyball. Easy as pie, everyone can now go home.

Just as Sakusa throws on his jacket, he hears a call for him. 

“Omi-san!” 

What’s with everyone and calling for him when he’s trying to leave the changerooms?

Sakusa scowls, but turns around anyway to come face to face with the Black Jackals residential sunshine™, “What.” He asks flatly. He has a volleyball to buy. 

“Can you help me with picking out a gift for Goshiki-kun?” Hinata beams up at him and Sakusa, horrifically, almost instantly blurts out a yes. _Gross._

“Do I look like a person that would be good at giving gifts.” 

“I dunno, but you’re very observant!” Hinata shrugs, “And you’ve met Goshiki-kun before.” 

Sakusa very much wants to point out has only met Goshiki once during high school, and only for the span of five minutes. He doesn’t though, because this was Hinata, and it’s nearly impossible to be fully hostile towards Hinata no matter how hard you try. 

Bokuto suddenly enters the room and Sakusa turns on him. _He just wants to leave, why him._ “Why not ask Bokuto-san instead. He probably has some bright ideas.” 

This is, of course, completely sarcastic. He doesn’t think Bokuto has ever had a smart idea before outside of volleyball in his life. This, of course, goes right over Hinata’s head. 

“Bokuto-san!” Hinata buys it and turns as well, his entire body literally vibrating. “Can you help me pick out a gift for Goshiki-kun?” 

Bokuto glances at Sakusa, who sends him his very best _‘I don’t want to be part of this’_ look. Bokuto seems to get the memo; Sakusa is almost impressed. 

“Anything for my little disciple!” Bokuto ruffles Hinata’s already-too-messy hair, “What are you planning right now?” 

Sakusa is about to leave (again, for what probably might be the third time) when Hinata says something that catches his attention:

“I was planning to get him a volleyball, since it’s the first thing I thought of.” 

Sakusa’s first (and illogical) thought was, _‘copycat’_ and then immediately after, _‘what the fuck’._ Is everyone getting their Secret Santa a volleyball then? 

“Don’t get him a volleyball,” Bokuto says after a beat, “That’s lazy and unoriginal!” 

Sakusa stiffens up. _Lazy? Unoriginal? Him? Excuse me?_

“But Bokuto-san.” Hinata blinks, “Didn’t you get Akaashi-san a volleyball for his birthday in his first year—?”

“We don’t speak of that!” Bokuto cuts off. He opens his mouth to presumably sprout further nonsense, stopping when he notices the other still presence in the room, “Omi-Omi? Are you okay?” 

“I am,” Sakusa gets out through gritted teeth hidden behind his mask, “Fine. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t sound fine,” Bokuto says, “Actually, you sound kinda constipated actually.” Hinata nods from beside him, overly enthusiastic. Sakusa considers throwing something at the two. 

“Oh gross, Bokkun,” Atsumu says from where he stands in the door frame to the showers. He’s fully dressed and his nose is scrunched up cutely, like an offended puppy. “I don’t even want to know what you're talking about.” 

Sakusa suddenly gets struck with an idea. What’s a better way to pick a gift for someone, than to ask them subtly?

“You,” he growls, pointing at the setter who, much to Sakusa’s amusement, squeaks. 

“Me?” Atsumu whirls to look behind him and nearly slips. He turns back around, with what _might_ be mock-terror on his face, “Me!?” 

“You.” Sakusa starts walking closer. 

Atsumu eeps again, more genuine, “Don't kill me, Omi-kun! I’ll make it up to you! I’ll send you better tosses next time! I’ll buy you lunch or some fancy soap! I’m too young to die!” He wails.

“Someone help Atsumu-san!” Hinata chants, jumping up onto the bench, “Someone save Atsumu-san! He’s gonna die! We need our setter! Someone help him!” 

“Someone get an adult!” Bokuto calls, also jumping onto the bench which starts to creak a little. 

“Bokkun, _ya are an adult! Help me!”_

Sakusa wonders if he could still possibly send in an application for the Adlers. 

“Miya.” Sakusa looks him in the eye. Atsumu gulps. Hinata and Bokuto go silent, praying. “We’re going out.” 

Atsumu blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. “We are?” 

Sakusa scowls and pulls his mask further up his face, “We are. Let’s go.” 

“How do I know yer not gonna kill me in some sort of secluded spot?” 

“If you don’t hurry up, you won’t,” Sakusa says ominously, “Let’s go.” 

Atsumu gulps and follows behind him. 

  
  
“Good luck, Atsumu-san!” Hinata calls to his backs, “Don't let Omi-san kill you! We need you for at least next season!” 

“Uh-huh!” Bokuto agrees, “Unless we could get Kageyama to transfer teams…” 

“Ohh! That’s a great idea, Bokuto-san! That would be so cool! I’ll go call Tobio now!” 

Atsumu mutters something under his breath about ungrateful and horrifying teammates.

Sakusa makes sure to pass by very dark and very empty hallways as they exit the gym.

  
  


* * *

  
  


If he’s being honest to himself, something Sakusa isn’t often, he has no idea what he’s doing. 

In that split second, he had one plan: walk around the city with Atsumu, see what perks his attention and buy it for him, no matter the price because he’s tired.

(And not because he cares. Totally.)

“So Omi-Omi,” Atsumu starts. The streets are silent, only a few cars passing by every few minutes. It’s a good place to commit a murder, they think.

“I don’t know,” Sakusa says, checking the time on his phone. 

Atsumu blinks, “Er, what?” 

Sakusa sighs, irritated, “You were going to ask why I asked you to walk around with me, weren’t you?” 

“Uh, I mean, yea—“

“And I’m telling you I don’t know.”

“Ya dunno know why ya asked me to hang out?” Atsumu scrunches up his nose; it’s like a puppy, it reminds Sakusa of for the probably third time today. 

“Didn’t I just say that?” Sakusa said curtly, “It was more of a spur of the moment event.”

“It was impulse for you to hang out with me?” Atsumu preens, going from confused-offended to overly prideful in a flash, “I knew you liked me, Omi-kun!” 

Sakusa vividly gets a flashback to yesterday night’s conversation and grimaces, “Don't ever say that again.” 

Atsumu, being the five-year-old he mentally he is, starts singing. Loud. “Omi-kun _likes_ me~ Omi-kun _loves~_ me!” 

Sakusa pauses in his steps in the middle of the sidewalk and grabs onto Atsumu’s hair without even thinking about it. It’s soft and still damp from the shower; not unpleasant. “Shut up.” 

“I can’t hear ya! Omi-kun _loves_ me—!” Atsumu winces and Sakusa pulls on his hair, “Okay okay okay, ouch ouch ouch, Omi-kun, that hurts! You don’t do that to someone you _love~!”_

Sakusa stares into Atsumu’s eyes for a second, wondering how someone so successful could possibly be so stupid. He pulls harder. 

“Ouch, Omi-kun! This is kinda kinky, ya know—“

  
  


And the hand is instantly gone. 

But Atsumu doesn’t have any sort of filter, so he keeps going on, “Hey, I kinda liked it actually, ya could do it more often—“

“Stop it. Don’t you ever shut up?” Sakusa scowls. He sticks his hands back into his pocket. They’re still warm from the contact. 

“Nope!” Atsumu grins, almost proudly. Sakusa scoffs. He knows it’s true. 

The walk is fairly silent from then on, except for a few instances where Atsumu spoke up to point out dogs and how cute they were. Sakusa realizes this is an opportunity to get information for his sad list with one bullet point of volleyball. 

“Do you…” Sakusa pauses and grimaces again. He hates this. Small talk and just talking to people. “Do you like dogs?” 

Atsumu blinks at him again. 

Sakusa doesn’t think the question was that confusing, but he clarifies anyway, “Do you like dogs? If you had to pick between cats and dogs, which would you choose…?” 

“Ah no, I heard ya the first time, Omi.” Atsumu looks up at the dark sky, rid of stars. He hums, “I was just surprised ya care.” 

“Don’t make this weird, Miya.” Sakusa pulls his mask higher up his face. Uncomfortable, is what all this is. 

“Ahhh, okay.” Atsumu continues to hum, “I guess I like both? Like, both cats ‘n dogs are great and shit.” 

Sakusa snorts and looks ahead, “Coherent answer. ‘And shit’.” 

Atsumu turns his head and smiles at him, a tad bit soft (but since Sakusa is an idiot, he doesn’t pick up on it). “Whaddya want me to say? ‘I like cats better ‘cause they’re closer to foxes?’”

“Foxes?” Sakusa questions, “Ah, because of high school, right?” 

“‘Course.” There’s a tinge of pride in Atsumu’s tone. 

“Hate to burst your bubble—“

“Ya don’t.” 

Sakusa continues on and completely ignores Atsumu, per usual, “But foxes are actually closer to dogs than cats in terms of genetics.”

“Screw that. Cats should be closer, they’re all sneaky and,” Atsumu pauses and awkwardly wiggles his arms in front of him. It’s cute. “Sneaky ‘n stuff. Dogs are like, loud and… loud.” 

Sakusa snorts again, “Eloquent, Miya. I suppose I can see why you like foxes. Typical.” 

“Oi, what’s that suppose ta mean?” 

“Whatever you fancy it to mean, I suppose.” 

Another silence, until Atsumu again breaks it seconds later, “So how ‘about ya, Omi? Are ya a cat or dog person?” 

“Never actually thought of it,” Sakusa murmurs, “I don’t care for either, I think.” 

“Hey! Ya can’t just ask me a question and not have an answer for it either!” Atsumu accuses, spending the rest of the walk blabbering about the unwritten social rules Sakusa has apparently never heard about. 

Sakusa watches him talking animatedly with his arms moving around at breakneck speed. The dim lighting catches his golden eyes. They’re intense and almost feline-like, much like how they are in the middle of a tough rally. 

It sucks the breath out of Sakusa and he looks away. Atsumu finishes up his extremely random tangent with something along the lines of, _“and that’s why cats are better, Omi-kun!”_ and looks at Sakusa expectedly with those sharp golden eyes of his. 

“Whatever,” Sakusa grumbles, pushing Atsumu ahead. His insides feel strangely warm. “Let’s head back already.” 

  
  


* * *

_[some time the next morning]_

  
  


**🏐Motoya✨**

**Kiyoomi (** **_you)_ **

_[photo image]_

**🏐Motoya✨**

a fox?

wait

atsumu, get off kiyoomis phone

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

No. It's me. 

Kiyoomi.

**🏐Motoya✨**

… 

okay so why did you send me a fox? 

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Did you know it’s legal to own a pet fox in Japan? 

Along as you have the proper paperwork.

**🏐Motoya✨**

what

no

dont tell me ur planning to get atsumu a fox

you are *not* getting atsumu a pet fox

are you kidding me

why would you even think that’s a good idea?

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

… Miya told me foxes are his favourite animal

**🏐Motoya✨**

so your buying him a pet fox??

**Kiyoomi (you)**

Yes. 

**🏐Motoya✨**

no!!!!!!!!!

why would you even consider that??

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Are you even reading this chat?

He said he likes foxes.

**🏐Motoya✨**

oh my god.

im too sober for this

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Don’t get wasted already, it’s not even 5pm.

It’s a no to the fox then?

**🏐Motoya✨**

yes??

I mean yes to the no to the fox

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

You give me a headache. 

**🏐Motoya✨**

*your* giving *me* a headache kiyoomi

just

dont get him anything living my lord

can’t you be normal and get him like a sock?

singular plural idc just something not alive???

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Whatever.

**🏐Motoya✨**

how did u know he likes foxes anyways

gasp

did you ask him on a date

kiyoomi??

you did!! 

aww I’m so proud of you!

suna-kun owns me lunch the next week so thxxxx

_[you can no longer send messages to this user._ **_Learn more_ **]

**🏐Motoya✨**

fair enough

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, do ya wanna tell me why Motoya-kun is spammin’ me to tell ya to unblock him?” 

“No,” Sakusa grumbles, pulling on his shoes. He should stop having these conversations in the changeroom, it’s starting a pattern. “He’s an asshole.” 

“He’s yer cousin,” Atsumu corrects like Sakusa didn’t know. _(Wow,_ Komori was _his own cousin!_ Who would’ve known? Apparently not him.)

“Same difference.” Sakusa leans back, just as Hinata bolts past him screaming something about gift wrap and volleyballs. “What the fuck do you want anyways?”

Atsumu clicks his tongue, “I thought we were friends, Omi-kun. After last night, y’know,” he says, his voice going sultry in a way that Sakusa _did not_ like. 

Inunaki chokes on his spit from beside them. 

“Fuck you, don’t say it like _that.”_ Sakusa scowls, looking around. Luckily, no one else seemed to have heard that. Inunaki was still choking though; someone should probably do something about that before they lost their libero. “Nothing happened last night.” 

“‘Scuse ya! I poured out my feelings! My heart ‘n soul to ya!” 

“You’re excused and what the fuck nothing like that happened.” 

Atsumu clicks his tongue again but doesn’t snap back. “Go out with me,” he says instead.

Inunaki chokes again, doubling over and smacking his head against the locker with a clang.

“ _Don't_ say it like that, did you hear me the first time or are you ears filled with cotton?” Sakusa hisses.

“That’s how ya said it yesterday!” Atsumu throws his hands in the air and narrowly misses smacking poor, poor Inunaki in the face. “Why are ya yelling at me!” 

“That was a different story,” Sakusa sniffs. 

“I think ya should get just off yer high horse and admit yer biased.” 

“Of course I’m biased,” Sakusa scoffs, zipping up his jacket, “When are we leaving?” 

“Why are ya allowed to be biased— wait.” Atsumu instantly brightens up to a level that‘s close to beating Hinata, “Yer agreeing? To hangin’ out with little ol’ me?” 

“Your positivity is disgusting.” Sakusa bristles.

“But yer gonna hang out with me _and_ my sometimes-positivity!” Atsumu beams at him and Sakusa swiftly looks away. “Let’s go then, Omi-kun!” 

“Whatever,” Sakusa says, tucking a small piece of folded paper deeper into his pocket. “Lead the way, your highness.” 

“I’m _so_ glad Omi-Omi, that ya _finally_ noticed my sheer brilliance— _ow, ow, ow okay I’m sorry!”_

  
  


* * *

> [on neat line paper with light fold creases in perfect straight lines. The list seems to be written with smooth ink.]
> 
> **Sakusa Kiyoomi’s List on things Miya Atsumu (claims he) Likes.**
> 
> _\- Volleyball._
> 
> _\- Foxes._
>
>> _\- Between cats and dogs, Atsumu prefers cats._

* * *

  
  


Sakusa is starting to wish he had declined the offer to hang out. He really is. 

Especially since Atsumu has been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes about some online video game he has been playing. Sakusa has been tuning him out for fifteen. 

_“And,_ my god, Omi-kun, some stupid shit decides to blow up a grenade! In the middle of the _stealth mission!_ Ya should’ve been there to hear me cuss the hell out of the guy—!”

“That’s fantastic, Miya.” Sakusa interrupts, his tone flat. Twenty minutes of brainless rambling is enough for him. Too much, in fact. 

“Where are we heading exactly?” Sakusa asks since he is almost certain he’s seen that same lamp pole seven times already.

Atsumu shrugs, “I dunno.” 

Sakusa stops in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at the shorter, “What do you mean, ‘ _I dunno’.”_

“It means exactly what ya think it means, Omi-kun. I was sorta just winging it, y’know?” 

_(Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Kiyoomi.)_

“Why would you invite me out and have no plan on what to do?” Sakusa snaps. He just wants to go home now, away from all this idiocy, Secret Santa be damned.

“Talk about hypocrisy _again,_ Omi-kun. That’s _literally_ what ya did yesterday too.” 

Sakusa stares up at the sky and debates the pros and cons of stabbing Atsumu right here and now with his keys. 

Pros: Atsumu is silenced forever and Sakusa never has to deal with him again. But something doesn’t sit right in him with that. He blames it on the ethics of murder and nothing else. 

Cons: Murder. Sakusa is much too young and would like to think he has too much of a successful future to go to jail. However, he has sources that could help him hide a body, so he may be safe. Further debate and planning required. 

“Omi-kun? Are ya okay?” Atsumu, the very victim of his mental murder schemes, speaks over his thoughts, “Yer staring very creepily at the sky and I don’t think I like it very much.” 

“You don’t plan a muder out loud.” 

“Hah?!” 

“Nothing, I—“ Sakusa stopped, his eyes catching on a bright sign across the street. “Isn’t that the shop you like?” He points out.

“Hah…?” Atsumu turns as well. There’s a frozen yogurt shop across the street. 

Sakusa hums and hurriedly changes the subject so he doesn’t accidentally commit homicide; he’s a pro at that. Both changing the subject and homicide, he means. 

“Didn’t you say that frozen yogurt shop was your favourite? I traded a gift card with you last year, didn’t I?” 

“D-Did I say that? I can’t believe ya actually remember.” Atsumu chuckled nervously, _“I sure didn’t…”_ He added under his breath. 

“I can’t believe you forgot your so-called favourite frozen yogurt shop.” Sakusa walks across the street and Atsumu scrambles to follow behind, “Is it any good?” 

“T-The ice cream?” 

“No, the weather.” Sakusa rolls his eyes, “Yes, the _frozen yogurt._ Not ice cream.” 

“It’s good if I remember correctly,” Atsumu settles on, “The best part is that I can get as much as I want and no one can stop me as long as I pay ‘em.” He puffs his chest out, back to his usual preening nature. 

“That’s unhealthy.” Sakusa lips twitch upwards. _Typical Miya,_ he thinks. “Not to mention unstable for your financial situation.” 

“Imma a pro-player, Omi-kun! I’ll be fine.” The blond grins. He lightly slaps Sakusa’s arm with the sleeve of his jacket, “Thanks for carin’ about me though!” 

“I don’t care. Stop getting those ideas in your head.” Sakusa's smile falls into a scowl again at a record time. He fidgets with the strap of his mask. “Want to get ice cream then?” 

“I already used up the card, Omi-kun. And it’s _frozen yogurt,_ not ice cream ya filthy hypocrite—“

“My treat then,” Sakusa lets slip, instantly punching himself internally. But Atsumu smiles at him so large that it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. “Open the door for me, let’s go.” 

Atsumu, for once in his life, knew when to not argue. He opens the store’s doors. They both walk inside, together. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“You went on an ice cream date?” 

“No,” Sakusa says into his phone, all venom per usual, “There was no date.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Komori mused, “You walked around the town at night, talked, _and_ you bought him ice cream.” 

“Frozen yogurt,” he corrects. Sakusa pulls up his laptop again and pulls up his search history to find that wikihow article again. 

“Same difference.” There's a beat, “So. What are you getting him?” Komori’s voice is noticeably quieter, like he was sharing some sort of secret. 

“A gift card to the frozen yogurt shop.”

“No, you’re not,” Komori sighs, “Come on, Kiyoomi-kun, that’s so tacky. Like something old people or my parents give each other at their office parties.” 

“I’m telling your mom you said that.” Sakusa scrolls down to step eight of the article: make a homemade gift. Not bad if it wasn’t for the fact Sakusa simply didn’t _do_ arts and crafts. 

Komori doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. “This is like the time in highschool where you got Tsukasa-san a lint roller or his birthday.” 

  
  
“What is the problem with that? It was practical and useful.” 

Which, speaking of practical and useful, step three of the article was to identify what items the person may need. Though, Sakusa is fairly sure he can’t just buy Atsumu a brain. 

“Yeah, sure, if it wasn’t for the fact he already had his own lint roller.” The sheer exasperation in Komori’s tone makes Sakusa roll his eyes. “Seriously, Kiyoomi-kun. You might as well have bought him a bucket of paint so he’d pass as a painter.” 

“It’s never bad to be prepared.” 

“But with two lint rollers? What is anyone going to do with that?” 

“Well, what do you suggest I get for Miya since apparently you’re the master gift-giver.” Sakusa kills the tab and shuts his laptop down. Whatever. 

“Something to show how much you like him? So like, a date?” 

Oh. My. God. 

_Deep breaths, Kiyoomi. More deep breaths while you reevaluate the people you associate with._

“I,” Sakusa starts, getting up to grab himself some tea before he randomly combusts and actually tries to jump out his window, “I _do not_ like Miya. In any way that you might be insinuating.” 

“Emotional constipation,” Komori mutters quietly, but Sakusa hears him anyway and nearly shatters the cup in his hands. “Some day, I’m worried that all your bottled up emotions are going to explode and you’re going to start, like, spontaneously hugging everyone in sight.” 

The sheer thought alone of touching anyone makes Sakusa shiver. “I’m going to get you a psychology book for Christmas because that’s not at all how it fucking works.” 

“Okay, but, riddle me this.” A dramatic pause for effect. “If it was just like, a one time hookup thing, would you do it?” 

Sakusa drops his phone. But he isn’t a pro-volleyball player for nothing and quickly swoops to grab it before it could hit the ground. 

He moves his phone as close to his mouth as possible without it touching, and in his lowest and darkest tone, growls out, “What. The. _Fuck,_ Motoya.” 

“Hey now, answer the question.” He laughs nervously. Sakusa is going to spike _two_ volleyballs in his face the next time they meet. “Would you?” 

Sakusa thinks of Atsumu’s intense eyes, soft hair and smooth skin and okay, yeah, wow, _maybe_ he would.

  
  


Komori — rightfully, as much as Sakusa hates to admit it — takes the silence as a positive and laughs. Right at him. “See, Kiyoomi-kun? If you like him enough for that, then you like him enough to date him.” 

“ _That’s not how it works._ I am seriously buying you a psychology book,” Sakusa grits out. He takes a sip of his tea to calm himself, but ends up burning his tongue instead, “Fuck.” 

“Hey, it’s better than dual-lint rollers, don’t you think?” Komori gets out as he continues to laugh at him. Sakusa hangs up and blocks his number again. 

He pours the tea down the sink and buys a pack of twenty lint rollers online. 

  
  


* * *

> **Sakusa Kiyoomi’s List on things Miya Atsumu (claims he) Likes.**
> 
> _\- Volleyball._
> 
> _\- Foxes._
>
>> _\- Between cats and dogs, Atsumu prefers cats._
> 
> _\- Frozen yogurt._
>
>> _\- He prefers mango and chocolate, with_ ~~_too many_~~ _plenty of marshmallows and gummy sharks._

* * *

  
  


Practice goes by horribly the next day and it’s all Komori’s fault. 

Because Sakusa, king of concentration, can’t focus on the game and is rather too distracted by the sleek lines of Atsumu’s legs as he jumps and sets the ball into the air. 

Sakusa leaves hurriedly, ignoring his teammate’s worried questions and comments. He has a gift to find. The exchange is in a few days and he doesn’t have time to waste.

“Oi, Omi-kun?” 

_Shit._

Sakusa forces himself to continue looking ahead. He’s not sure if he could properly look Atsumu in the eye so soon after yesterday. “What is it, Miya?” 

  
  
He hears shuffling. “I was wonderin’ if you're okay? Ya seemed off yer game today.”

“Nothing of your concern,” Sakusa dismisses. It’s a tad harsh, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. “I have somewhere to be, so if you’re done?” 

“Ah, right.” More shuffling, “I’ll see ya at practice again later today, right? Bring back somethin’ for me, ‘k?” 

_That’s the whole point of this trip,_ Sakusa says in his head. “Maybe,” he says instead and leaves.

He has a train to (impulsively) catch.

  
  


———

  
  


“Welcome, I’ll be with ya in a sec—“ Osamu looks up from where he’s wiping down a table and just blanks, there and then. “Oh.” 

Sakusa stands uncomfortably in the middle of the semi-busy restaurant. He scuffs his feet, “Is this a bad time?” 

“Ah, no,” Osamu seems to get over his initial shock of seeing Sakusa, “It’s fine.” He grabs onto one of his employees and mutters something to them. 

He then walks back to the kitchen and grabs a dishrag. “What brings ya here, Sakusa-kun?” 

  
  
Sakusa walks up to the counter and sits down lightly. He avoids touching the table. “You know about the Secret Santa, don't you?” 

“Straight to the chase, huh?” Osamu pauses in the middle of drying a particularly large plate. “Ya got Tsumu, didn’t you?” 

Sakusa isn’t surprised. There wouldn’t be much of a reason to visit if he _hadn't_ drawn Atsumu, “You're his brother. So I was wondering if he told you anything he’d like recently. I’ve been… having difficulty picking a suitable gift.” 

Osamu smirks, “Finally thinkin’ of tyin’ the knot, huh?” 

He does not sputter. He is Sakusa Kiyoomi, and he _does not_ sputter, _fucking hell._ Why does everyone think he has some sort of infatuation with Miya? He _does not._

“I’m not sure if anyone informed you, but that means _marriage,_ Osamu. I’m not planning anything of the sort. Ever,” he says in lieu of punching the restaurant’s owner in the face and getting kicked out. 

“I know what it means.” Osamu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box. He flicks it open to reveal a silver ring. He pockets it again. 

Sakusa blinks. “Oh. Congrats,” he says awkwardly. What _is he_ supposed to even say in this situation? Yay? Wow? About time? He has no fucking clue. 

Osamu flashes him a grin, “Don’t congratulate me yet. I hadn’t even asked Rin yet. I’m planning to at the party this Friday so I can rub it in Tsumu’s face.” 

“Oh. Congrats,” Sakusa repeats. He winces. 

“Yer a funny guy, Sakusa-kun.” Osamu pulls on some gloves and starts making something. Presumably, onigiri, because, well. You get the point.

Sakusa shuffles around in his seat again, uncomfortable. Osamu’s eyes light up in realization, “Ah, right, Tsumu, sorry. He hasn't been around often this month to talk. He mostly comes in an’ steal my food without payin’.” 

“That sounds like him.” Sakusa snorts.

“Ya get it,” Osamu’s grin falls into a pensive expression, “Ehhh, well, he likes video games? He’s been crashin’ at my place randomly to steal my console.”

“I’m not buying him a whole gaming console. He’s going to be even more annoying with that.” 

“Fair enough,” Osumu shapes the rice into a neat triangle without even looking. Sakusa would’ve been impressed if it wasn’t for the fact Osamu literally owned a restaurant. “He likes that cartoon we watched as kids, I dunno the name though. He also likes Pusheen ‘n cutesy shit, he probably has a wall of stuffed animals in his room.” 

Stuffed animals? Really? Atsumu didn’t seem like the type to Sakusa; he doesn’t judge though. He still has a teddy bear from his infancy back home that he absolutely refuses to throw out. 

“Ahhh, he also likes food I guess? Fatty tuna is his favourite, but I dunno what ya could do with that. He also likes those stupid shaped chocolates; he freaked out once and forced me ta buy him like, 30 in the shape of volleyballs back in highschool since he blew all his money on volleyball magazines. Did I mention volleyball—?”

  
  
“Wait, did you say chocolates?” Sakusa interrupts his tangent since it could probably go on forever. In fact, this is the longest he’s heard Osamu talk. Ever.

“Eh?” Osamu blinks at him, “Yeah. He’s like a child, always lookin’ for those chocolates shaped as rabbits and alligators and shit.”

Sakusa’s not so sure about the alligator part, but chocolates? He may know someone that could help him. He smoothly slides off his seat, “Thank you, Osamu. You were of a lot of help.”

“Yer welcome, I guess?” Osamu shrugs, “I suppose chocolates aren’t bad of a gift, but ya don’t wanna stay a while? Ya just got here minutes ago.” 

Sakusa glances wearily at the only water-cleaned tables and then at the door where more customers started to file in, “I’ll pass.” 

Osamu nods. He looks almost wise, “Ah, right, ‘cause of your,” he wiggles his fingers in front of him, “Germ thing.” 

Sakusa nods mockingly himself, “Right. _Germ thing._ Until this Friday then.”

“Ah, wait.” Osamu holds up an onigiri in his gloved hands, “Take it. For the road since ya can’t stick around.” 

Sakusa guesses he could see why people considered Osamu the ‘slightly nicer twin’, “How much?” 

Osamu wraps the onigiri in a napkin and smirks. It’s razor-sharp. “Free of charge for my future brother-in-law.” 

_Abort Abort Osamu is not the nicer twin._ Sakusa sputters, grabbing the onigiri from Osamu and storming out, ignoring the loud laughter following behind him. 

_Fucking hell._

  
  


* * *

> **Sakusa Kiyoomi’s List on things Miya Atsumu (claims he) Likes.**
> 
> _-_ _Volleyball._
> 
> _\- Foxes._
>
>> _\- Between cats and dogs, Atsumu prefers cats._
> 
> _\- Frozen yogurt._
>
>> _\- He prefers mango and chocolate, with_ ~~_too many_~~ _plenty of marshmallows and gummy sharks._
> 
> \- _Stuffed animals._
> 
> _\- Shaped Chocolates._

* * *

  
  


After stopping by the market to pick up some stuff, it’s nearly dusk. Before knocking on the door, Sakusa shoots a text to Bokuto telling him to tell the captain he isn’t going to make it to evening practice. He then instantly _blocks_ Bokuto so he wouldn’t then get spammed with sad owl emoticons and questions on his whereabouts. 

He knocks, once, and the door quickly swings open. 

“Ah,” Ushijima Wakatoshi stands in front of him, looking as close to surprised for someone as stoic as him. “Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa nods and bows a little, a tad awkward. “Pardon the intrusion, Wakatoshi-kun. Can I talk to you?” He lifts the plastic baggie hanging off his arm, “I brought green tea.” 

Ushijima opens the door wider, “Of course, come in. I’ll put a kettle on the stove.” 

Sakusa shuffles into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He drops the baggie onto the kitchen counter and goes to sit at the table. The entire room is silent other than what may be a fighting anime playing in the background and the quiet whistling of the kettle. It’s quite comfortable. 

Ushijima eventually returns after a while with two steaming teacups. He slides one across the table to Sakusa and sits across from him. Sakusa takes a sip; he doesn’t burn his tongue this time (yay).  
  


“So,” Ushijima starts, “What is the problem that required you to visit me all the way here?” 

“Your partner works with chocolates, doesn’t he?” Sakusa asks directly — he was never good with small talk anyway. 

Ushijima gives a small nod of his head, “Ah. For the Secret Santa Komori-kun is holding?” 

Sakusa nods and sinks into his seat. 

“I will ask him, excuse me for a minute.” Ushijima gets up, picking up his phone from the kitchen counter and walking into the hall. 

Sakusa taps his finger against the table, sinking further into his seat and trying to tune out the conversation his friend was having. A minute passes. Then five. Sakusa brings his cup to his lips to find it’s empty. _Awkward._ It’s unbearably awkward.

Ushijima finally returns, pulls out his chair, and takes a sip of his tea. Sakusa waits.

“He said no,” Ushijima says, gently lowering his cup.

“What.” 

Ushijima nods seriously, “I talked to him. He said he’s been busy lately and doesn’t have time to make more chocolates,” he explains slowly, like Sakusa was some child who didn’t understand what ‘no’ meant. 

Now, Sakusa never met Ushijima’s partner outside of a volleyball match and doesn’t even remember his name (though, he _thinks_ it starts with a T), but doesn’t think he would say it so politely. Or at least, that bluntly. 

“He mostly said that chocolates were not a suitable gift for whom you are giving them to,” Ushijima continues, completely reading Sakusa’s mind, and also, crushing all his hopes and dreams. 

He’s back at square one with no _fucking_ clue what to do. Isn’t that fantastic? 

“He — your partner — knows who I received in the draw?” Sakusa pursed his lips. The finger tapping intensified.

“He guessed. He’s usually correct.” Ushijima pauses, “You received Miya, didn’t you? He mentioned how you drew your, ah, ‘lover boy’ for lack of a better term.” 

Sakusa sinks so far in his chair that his chin almost hits the table surface. _How embarrassing._ “Atsumu isn’t my anything. Especially not my lover. There’s no feelings behind it. Behind anything.” 

Ushijima pours himself some more tea, “You are putting a lot of effort in picking a gift for someone you claim to not care about.” 

“Atsumu is my teammate,” Sakusa tries to reason, but the words fall deaf to his own ears, “If I don’t get something, _good I guess,_ it could ruin our relationsh— Teamwork.”

He hums. “As conceited as Miya acts, I don’t believe he would care for such substantial details. I believe you know that as well. Actions do speak louder than words, in a sense.”

Sakusa continues to slide down his chair, nearly falling off because what Ushijima had said is unmistakably true. He’s seen himself how Atsumu had brightened up when Sakusa simply just chats and invites him out. 

“Kiyoomi, are you alright? I apologize for poking at sensitive matters. I thought you knew.” Ushijima pours himself yet another cup of tea. 

“I am fine, Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa says, keeping his voice as even as possible in the midst of his mental hurricane. “I think I’m going to head back now.”

Sakusa gets up, ignoring Ushijima’s watchful eye. “Sorry for intruding once again. And thank you for hearing me out.” He bows; ‘ _Please just let me leave’,_ it says. 

“Of course. Let me walk you to the door.” Ushijima gets up and escorts him out without further question, “Thank you for visiting, Kiyoomi. Feel free to come over whenever, especially with that green tea. I quite enjoyed it.” 

“I will. Thank you, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

Just as Sakusa turns to leave, he hears Ushijima call out to him one more time, “I apologize again for whatever I might have said wrong.” _You seem troubled,_ he actually says. 

“No need to apologize. You didn’t say anything wrong, I’m fine.” _It’s not your fault._

Ushijima hopefully (probably) understands. “If it helps with anything, you’ve been calling Miya by his given name since you’ve arrived.” He then closes the door, leaving Sakusa in the hallway with his thoughts.

It’s not anyone’s fault for not realizing. It’s only his, Sakusa knows. 

  
  


* * *

_[sometime after leaving the residence of Ushijima Wakatoshi]_

  
  


**🏐Motoya✨**

_[You have unblocked this user.]_

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Fuck you. 

**🏐Motoya✨**

???

ok fair but like

context this time??

kiyoomi-kun?

  
  


(Because on second thought, it’s definitely Komori’s fault too.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Hey, Omi-kun.” 

Practice ends up mostly the same except from when Meian chewed him up for skipping without proper notice, and from when Hinata showed up with glitter in his hair, wearing two different socks and two different shoes. But the latter’s gameplay, attitude and health seemed to be normal, so Sakusa’s pretty sure he’s fine. 

Atsumu had seemed more sulky though, ignoring Sakusa and sending him horrible tosses that he had refused to hit. 

In fact, even right now in the changerooms, Atsumu is still looking all sulky at him, like a cat caught in the rain. 

“Omi-kun,” he whines again like Sakusa hadn’t ignored him perfectly fine the first five times. Sakusa ignores him again.

“I missed ya! Ya didn’t show up to afternoon practice yesterday,” Atsumu wails on.

“You’re an idiot,” Sakusa says, closing his locker with probably more force than necessary. He sees Tomas flee out of the room from the corner of his eye. 

“What was that for, hah?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought we were listing obvious things.” 

“Omi-kun…” Atsumu pouts, and Sakusa feels a tug at his chest, “You _promised_ me ya show yesterday.” 

“I didn’t say anything of the sort.” Sakusa furrows his brow. He definitely wouldn’t have said anything like that.

“Yes ya did! I said that I’ll see ya during practice later and ya said ‘maybe’.” He imitates the last part in a brooding tone that makes Sakusa’s eye twitch.

“That wasn’t me promising anything.” Sakusa scowls. His mask, for once, feels oddly restricting, “Why do you care anyways?” 

“Well, duh! Yer been actin’ really nice to me, so I planned a date for the two of us.” Atsumu crosses his arms and huffs, “Sucks that ya didn’t even show.” 

Sakusa hates how his heart skips a beat when he hears Atsumu say that it was a date, even though he’s like, 90% sure he didn’t mean it in _that_ way. “I was busy.” 

“But ya said ya were gonna be there!“

“I was busy—“

“But ya promised!” 

“Miya, I had other things to do—“

“Ya should’ve at least texted! I had to hear it from _Bokkun_ of all people! Did ya know you betrayed I felt that ya chose Bokkun over yer _new best friend—?”_

“I’m sorry, okay?” Sakusa snaps. His shoulders ride up and tighten unconsciously, “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Miya. I have other things to do than hang around you all the time.” 

The brightness in Atsumu’s eyes flicker, but his expression is still oddly lax. “Fine. Whatever. See ya at practice later again, Omi. If ya show that is.” 

And he’s gone. 

Sakusa doesn’t care. He tells himself he doesn’t. 

Hinata and Bokuto stand silently at the doorframe of the room. Sakusa doesn’t know how they’ve been there, but was certainly long enough though since they were looking at him with those identical pitiful expressions. 

“I’m going for a walk.” Sakusa throws on another coat, “I’ll be back later.” 

For once one stops him from leaving the changerooms. He isn’t sure if it’s a wanted thing anymore or not. 

  
  


* * *

_[an hour after, when Sakusa is returning to the gym]_

  
  


**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Have you seen Miya?

**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

!!

UR TEXTING ME?? 

W/OUT A BLOCK???

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

I’m asking a question.

I wouldn’t block you if I actually needed you to answer.

**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

HAHAHA

UR SMART OMI OMI

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

The caps are hurting my eyes.

**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

YEAH ITS G8 RIGHT?!?!!!??

UH BUT TSUM TSUM DID SHOW UP

HE SAID HE WENT OUT 2 BUY A GIFT

FOR HIS SECRET SANTA

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Did he now.

Thank you, Bokuto-san.

**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

NPPP LOL

ME + HINATA WENT OUT TO BUY SNACKS

THERES A CANDY SHAPED LIKE A OWL 

_[photo image]_

ITS SO COOL

OMI OMI THERES ONE SHAPED AS A VOLLEYBALL

OMI OMI

OMI!!!

_[you can no longer send messages to this user._ **_Learn more_ **]

**Bokuto-SENPAI!!!🏐🦉🦉🦉**

:((

  
  


———

_[before Bokuto texted]_

  
  


**🏐Hinata☀️**

**🏐Hinata☀️**

Omi-san?

I need to ask you a favour if u can

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

Go ahead, but I can’t make promises.

**🏐Hinata☀️**

o 

I’m surprised u answered lololol

Bokuto-san says he can never get ahold of u

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

What is it that you need?

**🏐Hinata☀️**

Rite rite

Atsumu-san stopped by and said hes going on a run 

but he left behind his phone

**Kiyoomi** **_(you)_ **

He said that, did he.

I make no promises, but I’ll inform him if I.. run into him.

**🏐Hinata☀️**

yayyyyyy!!!

Thank u Omi-san \（＾Ｏ＾）/

  
  
  


(So Atsumu is avoiding him and lying to his teammates, huh? Two can play at that game.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Sakusa gets back from his walk, the change room is eerily quiet considering practice was supposed to start in less than an hour. 

As soon as he finishes changing his clothes and tosses his mask to start warming up, the door opens to reveal someone very much not from the team.

Akaashi Keiji blinks at him, surprised. Sakusa blinks back.

Here’s the thing; despite how much Bokuto rambles on about his Akaashi, Sakusa has never really talked to him much even though he was at every V-League party that Bokuto managed to drag him to. They both were too busy sulking in their respective corners he guesses. 

“Akaashi-kun,” Sakusa greets wearily. He feels oddly vulnerable with no one else to talk in favour of him. Or cause a disaster for him to escape, which, same difference he supposes.

“Sakusa-san.” Akaashi seemed to regain his composure. He straightens up, “It’s… nice to see you.” 

Sakusa would say the same, but he would probably be lying, so he just nods stiffly instead and starts filing his nails just to give himself something to do. 

What an awkward silence. Sakusa pretends he doesn’t see Akaashi giving him a piercing look, and continues filing his nails to perfection just to fill the time. And for the dramatic effect too maybe (probably). 

“Do you want to talk, Sakusa-san? You seem troubled by something.” Akaashi says eventually. He pauses. “Do I have to talk to Koutarou again?” 

“No, it’s not anything to do with him.” Sakusa continues filing his nails. A tad too hard though, since he feels a brisk burn on the tips of his finger. “Are you here for Bokuto?” 

Akaashi, to his credit, knows when to back off. He hums an affirmative, “I was supposed to surprise him. I’m not supposed to arrive until tomorrow, during the party.” 

“Were you now?” 

Akaashi smiles, just so soft and sweet that Sakusa sees the appeal of why everyone fawns over Akaashi and call him pretty, “Yes. It’s quite difficult saying no to him, don’t you agree?” 

Sakusa actually thinks it’s quite easy to say no to Bokuto and that it’s even more amusing seeing him get all pouty. But then again, between the two of them, Sakusa wasn’t the one wearing a gold ring around his ring finger. 

“It’s the Secret Santa,” Sakusa admits quietly, “The exchange is tomorrow and I still don’t have an idea on what to get my pick.” 

Akaashi continues to hum, “That's quite the pickle.”

“I was going to get him something stupid since I thought I didn’t care. But I do and I might have upset him.” Sakusa continues, which, _oh my god shut up why are you saying all this._ “So I’m even more behind than where I started.” 

“I’m sure Atsumu-san isn’t upset with you,” Akaashi says in time.

Sakusa flinches and snaps his nail file when he hears the name. It clatters to the ground. 

Akaashi stares at the broken file on the floor, “Sorry.” He winces. 

“Does everyone know?” Akaashi sends him a weird look. “That I have conflicting feelings towards Atsumu, I mean.” 

“Ah, sorta.” Akaashi smiles sheepishly, “There may be a bet or two circulating as well.” 

That’s it. Sakusa can die now. Die in a hole where no one would ever find his body and not send it to Atsumu or something weird like that. He craves death. 

“What do I do now then?” 

“That’s a bit of a broad question. About the Secret Santa?” Akaashi clicks his tongue, “Have you had any previous ideas on what to get him?” 

Slightly begrudgingly, Sakusa pulls out his list from his pocket and hands it to Akaashi. He scowls once he sees the corner of the ex-setter’s lips turn up into a smirk. 

“A fox?” Akaashi grins, pushing up his glasses and scanning the rest of the lines.

“It was a spur of a moment thing.” 

“Still, I would say this is a solid list.” Akaashi taps the paper with his finger, “Atsumu-san, he likes your company, doesn’t he?” 

Sakusa thinks of sparkling eyes, bright smiles and frozen yogurt. “Yes, I guess so if that doesn’t sound egotistical of me.” 

“Then get things that remind him of your company.” Akaashi offers, handing the list back, “To prove you were listening.” 

Sakusa scowls, all dark, frustrated and in the open without his mask. Akaashi doesn’t look put out in the slightest. “Do you want me to write a list or something, Akaashi-kun? I’m not a poet or such.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Akaashi said simply, “Actions do speak louder than words, don’t they?” 

The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, before there’s the loud chatter of two other, familiar teammates from the other side of the door.

“That’s the same thing Wakatoshi-kun said to me, believe it or not,” Sakusa mutters.

“Is it now?” Akaashi’s eyes gleam from behind his glasses, “It’s good advice, either way.” 

The voices get louder. “... Thank you, Akaashi-kun, for the help.” 

“It’s no problem at all, Sakusa-san,” Akaashi replies with a smile, just in time as the doors kick open and he’s promptly tackled to the ground by a sobbing Bokuto.

  
  


* * *

  
  


If you really thought about it, mixing a bunch of tall pro-volleyball players with a fuck ton of alcohol in a tiny apartment maybe wasn’t the best idea. 

For example, Hinata _had_ actually bought Goshiki a volleyball and were now playing an indoor game with who they claimed were the original first-year training camp group (Sakusa has no idea, please don’t ask him). Nothing had shattered yet, but Kyoutani had nearly gotten nailed in the head more than once and that nearly caused a death or three. 

This is not to mention the fights the twins got into that (poor, poor) Aran had to physically and literally break apart. 

(The last fight Suna had hilariously recorded with a new, silver band tight around his ring finger.)

Atsumu was sitting on the balcony ground, the lower half of his legs sticking out from the railing and swinging in the frosty air. He holds a drink in his hand which may or may not be beer; Sakusa is not quite knowledgeable on alcohol to tell. 

So Sakusa sits next to him, crossing his legs and hiding a golden gift bag behind his back. 

“Oh, hey, Omi,” Atsumu greets and says nothing else. 

So it’s up to him to lead the conversation, huh? Fun. 

“Are you seriously still mad at me?” Sakusa says because honestly, he can’t think of any other normal conversation starter.

Atsumu turns to look at him, flashing an almost charming smile. “I could never be mad at ya, Omi-kun.” 

Sakusa gives him the flattest look possible. 

He laughs nervously and quickly amends his words, “Okay, yea, maybe I was upset for like, a _second,_ Omi. But I totally got over it quickly, so don’t ya worry yer pretty little head ‘bout it.” 

“Right.” Sakusa grits his teeth. If Atsumu was going to lie to him, Sakusa hoped he would’ve done a better job of it. “And that’s why you lied to our teammates about your whereabouts.” 

“Shit,” Atsumu swears and Sakusa almost laughs, “Ya asked them about me?” 

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” (Though, Sakusa isn’t sure what the wrong idea is anymore.)

Atsumu sighs and swings his legs much more harshly, to the point where Sakusa is concerned his shoes may fall off and hit some unsuspecting person on the streets. “I guess the cat's outta the bag then.” 

Sakusa’s heart constricts, but he quickly squashed the feeling back down. He _does not_ want to _deal_ with _anymore_ unaccounted for feelings, _thank you very much._ He’ll deal with them later, preferably when he doesn’t have access to other very stabbable people. 

He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t notice Atsumu holding out a nicely wrapped box in his hand, the size of his palm. “Hey, Omi? Stop spacin’ out on me all the time. This is for ya.” 

Sakusa stares at the box and the very first thing he says is, “Did Motoya _seriously_ rig the Secret Santa for you too? 

(Not that it mattered either way. Sakusa already had three different plans to kill his cousin and chuck his body down a river somewhere.)

Atsumu gives him a ludicrous look, “Komori-kun? Huh? What does he have to do with anythin’—“ he stops himself, “Whatever, nah, yer not my Secret Santa, I just wanted to get ya something.” 

“Oh,” Sakusa says quietly.

“‘Oh’ indeed.” Atsumu’s lips quirk up into a smile, one of the softer ones that Sakusa always seems to miss, “Are ya gonna take it or not, Omi-kun? My arm is gettin’ tired hoverin’ here.” 

Sakusa takes the box without saying a word, refusing to give Atsumu the satisfaction of an annoyed reply; he still looks smug anyway. He rips the paper open. 

There’s a single face mask inside the box, black with the Black Jackals logo engraved on the corner of the fabric. It looks custom-made, considering Sakusa doesn’t remember masks being sold on his team’s official merch store.

“ _That’s_ why I lied to Shouyou and Bokkun,” Atsumu explains, “‘Cause I knew if I told them the truth, they’d blab it to ya at light speed.” 

Sakusa is silent, running his finger over the mask’s fabric. It’s soft. 

“I noticed ya always fidgeted with yer mask when we hung out, so I thought, ‘wow! That’s really annoyin’!’, so I got a custom one for ya made so it would be less annoyin’ for the both of us.” And Atsumu continues to ramble on, but Sakusa is only half listening. 

Because honestly, Sakusa hadn’t even noticed he fidgets with his mask. The mask never even bothered him at all actually, since it was more of a nervous tic than anything. But the fact that Atsumu, the most self-centred, narcissistic, and asshole-ish person that Sakusa has _ever_ met, noticed his fidgeting and actually did something about it wasn’t good for his heart. In both a good and bad way. 

And so, he’ll blame it on the heat of the moment later, but in one swift movement, Sakusa pulls down his mask and leans forwards, pressing his lips against Atsumu’s.

Atsumu goes completely still. 

Sakusa has never kissed anyone before, and since Atsumu, the one who probably had some experience, was frozen solid, this was getting pretty damn awkward. So he pulls away literally half a second later.

Atsumu’s eyes are brighter than ever before. Sparkling, much like a firecracker and endlessly gold. And he’s staring right at Sakusa, completely awed. 

He isn’t sure if he likes it or not. 

“I-I’m,” Sakusa chokes out because he really can’t think straight or at all when Atsumu is still looking at him like that, “I’m your Secret Santa.”

(Later, he’ll look back at this moment and _absolutely_ _melt_ in embarrassment while Atsumu laughs at him from his side.)

There is a suffocating silence and honestly, if Atsumu doesn’t speak up or punch him soon, Sakusa’s going to get up and fling himself off the balcony and into oncoming traffic. 

“Was,” Atsumu finally speaks, “Was that my gift?” 

Sakusa flusters and shoves a gift bag into his face, looking away, “That. That was a spur of the moment thing. Again.” He seems to do that a lot when it involves Atsumu. “This. This is your actual gift.” 

Sakusa doesn't look even when he hears the crinkling of wrapping paper and the curious noise that Atsumu makes. He already knows what’s in the bag, all too well.

A fox plush with a small scarf adorned with volleyballs, a large bag of gummy sharks, a smaller bag of marshmallows, a gift card to a certain frozen yogurt shop, a bunch of dollar store chocolates and some old volleyball magazines Sakusa had extras of. 

He suppose the kiss may be part of that list too. 

Then there’s the actual list. Sakusa cringes when he hears Atsumu unfold the paper and skim the page over. 

“Hey, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says. He doesn’t sound mad or upset or anything like how Sakusa expected him to sound. “Omi-kun, do ya have a pencil?” 

Weird request as a pencil wouldn’t be good at stabbing anything out except the eyes. Sakusa pats down his pockets and pulls out a pen. He passes it to Atsumu wordlessly. 

There’s a scribbling sound and Atsumu makes a pleased hum, “Omi. Hey, Omi. Omi-Omi. Look at me, Omi.” 

Sakusa looks. 

Atsumu has his list flat on the ground, facing towards him to read.

> **Sakusa Kiyoomi’s List on things Miya Atsumu (claims he) Likes.**
> 
> _-_ _Volleyball._
> 
> _\- Foxes._
>
>> _\- Between cats and dogs, Atsumu prefers cats._
> 
> _\- Frozen yogurt._
>
>> _\- He prefers mango and chocolate, with_ ~~_too many_~~ _plenty of marshmallows and gummy sharks._
> 
> \- _Stuffed animals._
> 
> _\- Shaped Chocolates._

  
  


Sakusa flushes as he reads the already memorized words over, “What about it?” 

Atsumu grins and flips the page around. There’s a point there in messy handwriting, less slopey than Sakusa’s own.

> **Miya Atsumu’s list of things Miya Atsumu definitely likes!!!!**
> 
> \- Sakusa Kiyoomi (Omi!!!) 
> 
> \- and that is it ( ＾∀＾)

  
  


Sakusa’s entire face flares up and he grabs the pen back from Atsumu and almost ferociously scribbles the words out, “S-Stop that, Atsumu. That’s so stupid.” 

“Hey, I put work into that Omi!” Atsumu pouts, but he doesn’t stop Sakusa from wrecking the paper to get his emotions out. 

Sakusa eventually finishes crossing out the words and takes the list back for himself, sticking it into his pocket. A light yet familiar weight.

“So now that’s taken care of.” A dramatic pause again, “Look at me, Omi.” 

Sakusa looks up into Atsumu’s eyes which are still sparkling. Atsumu taps his lips with his index finger twice and grins. 

_What a child,_ Sakusa thinks, internally vomiting when the words come out sounding almost fond. _Gross,_ what has happened to him? 

“So ya like me, don’t you, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu's grin grows wider when Sakusa rolls his eyes. It’s fond again. “Ya really _love~_ me, right, Omi-Omi?” 

“Don’t ever say that again,” Sakusa says, though he can’t stop the twitch of his lips. He doesn’t feel the need to pull up his mask again to hide it. 

Atsumu sighs again, light and happy as he kicks his legs in empty air, “That settles it! Yer my favourite Christmas gift ever!” He looks back out at the sky, rid of stars but still so bright. Not that they would ever match the golden eyes of the setter sitting next to him. 

Still, Sakusa thinks it’s a bit of a bold claim. “ _I’m_ your favourite gift?” Leaning forwards, he raises a teasing eyebrow. It’s something new, the comfortable and bold and spontaneous feeling running through him, but not unwelcome for once. 

“Of course yer my favourite gift, Omi!” Atsumu turns back to him and smiles, all dazzle, “Because yer gonna be forever!” 

_Wow,_ that was a really bold claim. Sakusa blushes and turns away again, noticing the silhouettes of the other party attendees watching and exchanging money from behind the glass door. He would deal with them later. Everyone could come later at this rate and he’ll deal with it then. 

“Forever is a really long time to be stuck with you, Atsumu.” Sakusa moves his hand and sets it on top of Atsumu’s hand. It’s warm, not unpleasant.

“Well ya better get used to it then,” Atsumu bares his teeth, “Forever is gonna be fine for me along as I get to spend it with you.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Me, staring at my hands and doc: what the _fuck_ is this
> 
> I had a sakuatsu brainrot and out came a 11k word mess, don’t you hate when that happens. Anyways, for my own amusement: 
> 
> Omi count:  
> Atsumu - 47 Omi’s  
> Bokuto - 9 Omi’s  
> Hinata - 4 Omi’s  
> TOTAL - 60 Omi’s (okay wow)
> 
> I am now going to take a very long nap. Kudos, comments and shares are always appreciated, and I wish everyone reading this a happy and safe New Years❤️


End file.
